VI

Heavy jungle and warm rain surrounded him, making the air far too humid and his attitude far too irritable. Pausing in the action of hacking at thick vines, he wiped at his sweating brow with the back of his hand, doing nothing more than streaking mud and sap over his face. He glanced up at the thick covering of the canopy, wondering how much daylight they had. Not that it really mattered, this far into the jungle. Very little light was reaching them from the bright sunny day he knew was shining above them. Flashlights were their main source of light, giving the jungle a very eerie green glow.

Resuming his chopping, he forced his way deeper into the jungle, making a path for the others to follow. In all, there were twelve of them, three researchers, two film crew, and seven natives hired to lead and guide them through the dangers of the jungle. He smiled grimly as he thought that with the noise they were making, there were no predators that would risk attacking. They were probably scaring off any and all wildlife. It was a good thing that is not what he was here for.

Long ago, before recorded history, when there were a fair amount of demons and spirits walking the land, there was a great city that housed the heart and soul of the greatest empire the whole world had ever seen. That was all he had to go on, really. The demons were closed lipped when it came to talking to humans anymore, and he was hard pressed to find a spirit that could remember a time before recorded history. What he did find, led him to this land, this intense jungle in the heart of the continent, where no explorers had risked trekking, and no one had ever mapped out.

It was here he hoped to find the remains of that once great city. He just hoped that the jungle hadn’t completely destroyed it. He hoped he wasn’t wrong.

A cut off scream drew him up short and he turned to see one of his fellow researchers wildly flapping a hand at a snake that had dropped from a tree behind him. The snake reared up and hissed at the girl while their guides watched on, laughter filling the air. Rolling his eyes, he walked to the snake and caught it up from behind, his fingers pinching its neck. Explaining that it was a harmless breed, he tossed it into a tree off their path and resumed his duties.

The others mocked and laughed at the girl long into the night, often giving him a pat of the back for his ‘heroic’ deed, which did not make his life easier. They, after all, didn’t speak her language, while he did, and was at the receiving end of many complaints while sitting around the small campfire allowed them.

After a short break and nap, they were up and trekking once again. Gratefully, he wasn’t in the lead this day, instead walking behind the others, a heavy pack weighing him down. Watching his feet rather than the scenery of green tree after green tree sprinkled only with a few vividly colored flowers here and there, he almost missed the first glow.

It was low and was threading between overgrown roots and vines, keeping pace with them. Barely larger than a firefly, it almost blended in with the glow of the flashlights and lamps. At first, he did think it was a firefly, until he realized that it wasn’t winking at all, merely glowing with a soft light that neither pulsed nor blinked. He paused in his walking to watch it, wondering if it were a spirit that had lost its form, or the remains of an old and long forgotten spell. He wondered if perhaps he should have sought out more of the elder immortals before setting out. Were there dangers that he hadn’t thought of?

The light didn’t follow them, but there were other lights, few and far between. While he did notice them, he doubted his fellow researchers did. The native guides all stayed close together, eyeing the glows and nervously touches hands to weapons. During their next break, he spoke to them, asking about the lights.

Indeed they were the last remnants of spells. What for? None knew. They could have been guarding spells, or merely watching spells. Or even spells to keep the sun in the sky, for who knew just how smart the ancients really were. After all, they did believe that the sun and moon were living beings, rather than inanimate objects in the vastness of space. As they rested, he watched one light that hovered just beyond his direct line of sight. He could catch glimpses of it as it moved back and forth around a stump.

The others were busy with affairs of their own, the natives hugging weapons to their sides, and the adventures napping. Standing with a stretch, he carefully walked closer to the light and the stump it circled. So far, he had not seen a single sign of human habitation, so why would there be a stump that was sheered off with a straight line? He reached out and touched the moss covered object and discovered it not to be the remains of a felled tree, but stone.

Gasping in surprise, he began to pull at the moss, revealing etchings. He called out and soon the others surrounded him. A post, over two feet wide, made from sand stone and mud brick was discovered under the heavy growth of moss. As they touched it, the post crumbled around the edges even more.

Quickly, he ordered the film crew to take as many pictures as they could, from every angle. His own sketch pad was out and he copied the etchings, which he firmly believed were the written words from this long gone civilization. One member of the film crew brought out his video camera and filmed the piece, including the floating spell.

After watching the spell a bit longer, he realized that the spell was making a path, a circle around two spots, one being the nearly gone post. Setting aside the drawing pad, he followed the light and knelt. A grin split his face as he found stone. Given the distance, this must have been a gate. He gave his hypothesis to his fellow researchers and they agreed that it was logical.

He felt a thrill up his back and butterflies in his stomach, as he realized that which he had spent all his adult life searching for was about to be realized. Even if this wasn’t the long lost empire of ancient times, this was still a major find. Who knows what wonders he would uncover?

Not far from the gate, they found the remains of a stone road, then more posts and, startling, what looked to be a fountain. Staring in wonder, he sat next to the slightly tipped bowl, wondering what it must have looked like. How advanced were their ancestors? Nearly nothing was known about them, save for that they existed. Human memory is so short, and the spirits choose to forget that which doesn’t directly affect their lives. The demons probably knew all there was to know about the human cities that now no longer exist, but they just weren’t talking.

Chewing his lip, he looked around at the dense jungle, wishing things would be easier for him. They still had yet to find anything that said human lived here. There were no signs of lives lived, no pots, no remains of houses, just a few stones to denote a road, a post, and this wonderful fountain. Turning his eyes back to the structure, he smiled at the figure in the center of the bowl. It was a woman, swathed in thin cloth that had broken off with age, holding her arms out. One hand was missing, but the other remained, pointing up. Tilted as she was, for roots had grown up under the fountain, she was really pointing to the jungle. Her face was perfection, eyes closed, and her lips bowed in a smile. Her features were striking, very unlike the features of the people from his region of the world. Too, was she very different from the natives of this jungle. Her stone hair was braided down her back, blending into her stone clothing. He wondered who she was.

That night, they made camp around the fountain, the fire’s light flickering on her face, making her seem alive. Then, as the night progressed, he spotted the faint spell light that circled the fountain. As he laid out to sleep, he centered his gaze upon the stone woman and saw her in his dream.

She was pristine white, painted to shine under the blistering rays of the sun. Clear cool water poured out of a vase she held in her now attached hand, splashing into the bowl of the fountain as children played and women washed clothing.

He walked around the dream fountain, his eyes straying to the city that now surrounded him. Hundreds of people, looking similar to the woman posing in the fountain, milled about, chattering, but he couldn’t hear them at all. There was a dull roaring in his ears, that of the water spewing from the fountain. His dream self walked away from the fountain, mingling in with the people. Some called out to him and he greeted them in their own language, although he knew naught of what was said.

As he walked, he noted the alabaster wall that surrounded the city. It was so tall that he couldn’t see what was beyond it, or that he was so close. Finally, he came upon a gate and was waved through with a smile by the dark-skinned guards. He followed the path, through lush fields of grass and into the palace of which he had never seen the likes of before. He took a moment to gaze at the wide and airy atmosphere of the exotic building before something drew his attention to a covered porch. There, a wealth of pillows were splayed out around a table filled to overflowing with foods. He made his way to the table, his feet knowing the path without his mind having to tell them where to go. From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of purple, then he woke with a start as the guides began to break camp.

Sweating, he sat up and stared around at the jungle encroaching on them. The spell light was all but gone now with the coming of day, even without the light to signal that day had arrived. Wiping sleep from his eyes, he pushed all thoughts of the dream away, after all, it was only his own fancy of what he would want the city to be like.

They hacked and chopped their way further away from the post, making very little way, but it was well worth it, for more stone structures were found. With each new discovery, his excitement grew, until he found himself hardly able to keep still for it.

He should have brought a magic user with them, he belatedly realized as yet more spell lights were visible in the jungle. He couldn’t tell what the spells had been used for, knowing as little about magic as he did about the forgotten city.

Biting back his frustration at their slow pace and ignorance, he focused instead on the things they had found. Perhaps he should make a special page in his notes dedicated to the symbols they had found etched on the posts and fountain. He was sure they were words, but he doubted he would ever be able to translate them. Maybe he could find an immortal that remembered the language.

Suddenly he hit something very solid with his machete. The force of his swing’s sudden stopped sent a shot of pain up his arm, jarring him from his thoughts. Sheathing the blade, he pulled and tugged at the vines growing along the stone wall that stood in their path. The others came up along side him, helping to reveal more of the wall.

He glanced back the way they had come, barely able to make out the path through the overgrowth. In his dream, this was just about the right distance he’d walked to reach the wall. If they went to the left, they would find the gate. But that had been just a dream, right? It had no basis in truth. But then again, this place was filled with magic and who was he to deny magic once it had make its mark?

Putting out the idea, he led the way to the left, cutting down vines as he went, followed by his crew. It was another surprise when they reached the gate, for there were two slabs of stone, collapsed, that they had to climb over to reach the other side of the wall.

And it was well worth it.

Inside the wall it seemed as if the jungle stopped cold. Where before there was no sunlight, it now filled the air, blinding the travelers. Where there was a thick covering of leaves, there was now blue skies. The air was still humid and oppressing, but at least there was a breeze and they could breath deeply. The grass was a bit overgrown, and the path was wilted away, but the palace still stood. It was without its coating of white paint, the alabaster dull in the intense light.

The group stood in silence, staring in wonder at the sight before them. None of them had expected to find anything this grand still standing. Laughing, he walked forward, eyes taking in everything at once. While it wasn’t in its prime, the palace was still a sight to behold, standing after all these years. Off to one side there was a sudden blooming of trees and plants that drew his attention. He headed toward that, noting the small clear stream that threaded its way around the garden.

He left the others to their own devices as his feet took him down that unfamiliar path. Stopping at the stream, he knelt and splashed the cool water on his face, cooling his heated skin. While splattering water on the back of his neck, under his hair, he noticed the covered porch from his dream. Eye wide, he thought it wasn’t possible. On wooden legs, he went to the porch, wishing suddenly for the table to be there, with the silk pillows and the abundance of food.

Out from under the sun, he found the entrance into the palace and stepped inside. It was cool inside, and a light breeze traveled down the hall. He followed it and found himself a floor above the others, where they had entered via the front doors. He waved at one of the cameramen, remarking how beautiful the place was. Then he laughed at the idea that there would be ghosts here to tell them all about the people that once lived here.

There were the remains of sheer lace hangings fluttering in the breeze still hanging from the ceiling, and thin rugs thrown about the floor. There were oil lamps still sitting in their holders along walls, and torches with the ends still charred.

He walked around the grand stair case that circled the main hall, admiring the chipping paint and pottery that still remained.

This is what he had always wanted to find. This could, quite possibly, be the greatest find of this century. There were still so many objects laying about that they could discover so much about this lost civilization. He carefully walked down the stairs, wondering if they were as strong as they looked.

He joined the others, and began making decision on where they would focus their studies. He would have the film crew go though all the rooms before they did too much to damage the original positions of objects. Then they would do their studies and film all they discovered. This would be so much fun, he thought.

Then, a voice filled the hall, demanding to know why they were in its home. They all turned to the source, some starting in fear. One camera crashed to the ground as the cameraman jumped and spun about. All eyes turned to the staircase where he had stood before and saw a man none had ever seen before.

He stood, hands propped on the rain, glared down at them, the blue of his eyes visible in the bright light from the multitude of windows. His long black hair was unbound and hung over his shoulders and halfway down the rail that which he leaned over. His chest was bare, and, around his hips, was a cloth that was barely hanging on.

The researcher quickly explained that he was unaware that anybody had discovered this palace, for it was not on any historical map. The man raised a brow before claiming the place as his home once again. Then the researcher realized, this man was immortal.

Stepping forward, he asked forgiveness for their intrusion, but could he possible know anything about the lost civilization that once lived here? The man’s lips curved upward and the researcher took the time to realize that he couldn’t place the man’s ethnicity. His skin was dark, like the natives of the jungle, but his eyes were blue, nearly green, like sea foam. His facial features were also a far cry from the natives’. Slanted eyes, small nose, thin frame, he was nearly opposite from them, and yet, he couldn’t be placed into any other ethnicity.

The man straightened and walked alongside the rail, trailing his hand along behind him. He remarked that perhaps they would show themselves the exit and leave his presence. He spoke with an accent that he couldn’t place as well.

The researcher begged information from him. At the top of the stairs, the man stopped and their gazes met for the first time. In that gaze, he could see the ages that this immortal had lived. He could see arrogance and wisdom. He could see how tired the immortal was. Stepping closer, around his fellow intruders, he again begged for the man to allow them to explore his domicile and learn what they could, if he would not teach them.

The man turned sharply, granting them permission to explore to their heart’s content as long as nothing was disturbed and he was left alone. Glaring over his shoulder, he demanded that the thief be watched closely and nothing was to be taken from his palace, if anything was, he would know. Startled, the researcher glanced at the man the immortal was staring at and discovered it to be the third researcher of their group, a man he’d known for many years. By the time his eyes returned to the top of the staircase, the immortal was gone.

Tightening his jaw, he turned to his old friend, confronting him on the immortal’s charges. Dumbfounded, his friend didn’t deny them, instead tried to changed the topic by asking why would he believe the man was an immortal, being alone here, all these years would drive anybody insane. The researcher claimed that he wasn’t all that sure the immortal was sane.

Then why would he believe him? He had no reason to lie.

Cursing at him, his old friend turned away, but it didn’t go unnoticed that he never denied the charges. Feeling betrayed, the researcher directed the others in a new plan of attack, one that would leave the objects in the palace in place and not disturb the immortal. And for the first two days that plan worked. Not only did they get as much information as they could, but their resident thief was never left alone.

But, as always, the researcher’s curiosity overpowered his politeness and he actively sought out the immortal. He found the man sitting at a balcony, his hands holding on to the bars, his face pressed between them. Walking with soft clicks of his feet on the stone floor, he announced his presence.

The dark-haired immortal glanced at him over his shoulder before replacing his face against the bars. His reply was abrupt and made the researcher frown. He called the immortal rude and a snob before asking about the time the other man had spent in this palace. He asked about the people that once lived her, so very long ago. He asked every question he could think of, and received mediocre answers. Frustrated with the man’s refusal to cooperate, he left him, only to return only days later to ask yet more questions.

Bit by bit, he wore down the immortal’s defenses, gaining more clear answers, and more polite responses, although he was still horribly rude to the others. He fancied that the immortal had taken a liking to him.

Eventually, it was decided that it was time to return to civilization. They packed their gear and finished their notes and prepared for the trek back through the dense jungle.

As he lay in his bed roll the night before they were to set out, he dreamed yet again of that time when the city was surrounding the palace and human life thrived. He was standing on a balcony, staring out at the city, and beyond, the desert. Lips parted in surprise, he realized that the city was at its height long before there was ever a hint of jungle in this region. The people were desert born and the stone remains were the foundations of alabaster and brick. Everything was painted in vivid colors that the sun’s light turned violent to the eyes. Everywhere there were sheets of sheer lace and silks hanging, blowing in breezes. Flowers bloomed and there was the stream and fountains.

He leaned against the balcony’s doorframe, taking in the beauty of this desert kingdom. A warm hand settled on his forearm and a head rested on his shoulder. Words were said in a language he still couldn’t speak before he turned to find it was the immortal that stood at his side, smiling and beckoning him indoors.

He followed and was startled awake when they kissed.

Rising from his bed, he sought out the open air and made his way to the covered porch. Breathing in the heavy air, he wiped sweat from his brow, wondering at his dream and at the same time pushing away the memory. A noise brought his attention back to earth and he turned his gaze to the stream, where the immortal was wading in the shallow water.

Like in his dream, the water was swift and shined brightly, moonlight in place of sunlight. The immortal still wore only the length of cloth wrapped around his hips, his hair hanging down to his knees, soaking the tips in the water. As he approached, the immortal’s green gaze found him and he hesitated at the bank before dropping down on the lush grass. The two remained in silence for a long while, until, finally, the researcher asked to know who the immortal really was.

Laughing to himself, the immortal wondered out loud who he was, too.

Settling on the bank next to the other man, he gazed up at the stars, claiming many titles and giving himself many names, friendly and insulting. He had, after all, such a long history.

Under the light of the moon, he claimed to be once an emperor of a vast and great empire. But it was long gone now, only a few remained that remembered his people. Others called it a legend, and still others called it mere fancy. It was once real, and he was once the most powerful man in all of the human realm.

Watching the man, silhouetted by the moon’s light, sadness radiating off him in waves, the younger human blurted out an invitation for him to join them on their trek back, to join them, him, in civilization.

Started, the blue gaze studied him a long moment, and he sweated, waiting for an answer. Then he realized, he would not accept ‘no’. The immortal wasn’t happy here, he could clearly see that. It wasn’t healthy for anybody to remain alone for so long. The immortal would be leaving with them, wether he knew it or not.